


Bittersweet

by zarabithia



Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Rougher than normal sex, some bdsm.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 22:30:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11323038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Oh, look, Dick and Babs didn’t live happily ever after.  Nobody who knew them was surprised.





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to Nightwing vol. 1, 117. I was bitter, therefore, so are Tim and Roy.

By the time Babs has packed her suitcase, Dick’s voice will be hoarse from the apologies and promises he has used to try in vain to get her to stay. She’ll listen, just like a good Oracle always should, before repeating the same old bullshit that their walls must be growing tired of hearing.  She’ll use words like past glories, impossible, and can’t do it anymore. 

Dinah will call us at that point to let us know to expect “that man” soon. Roy will look at me, roll his eyes, and thank Dinah before hanging up the phone.

I’ll go with Lian to help her pack.  She’s a pretty smart kid but sometimes she still needs a helpful reminder to pack enough clean socks for the trip. She’ll need at least seven pairs. These things usually last a week.  Roy will call Donna Troy for babysitting duty while Lian and I are scavenging for socks.

By the time Babs makes it to the door, apologies and promises will have given way to begging and pleading. His hoarse voice will be joined by stinging eyes that only refrain from crying because of some left over looming influence of the Bat.  After all, a marriage that practically screamed for Batman’s stamp of approval couldn’t end in a manner he’d deem disgraceful, could it?

No, no. Batgirl and Robin wouldn’t stand for it.

Robin can’t cry, but Batgirl certainly can. By the time her hand reaches the door, tears will spill down her cheeks while professions of love spew forth from her lips. Incredibly, she’ll actually believe them. More incredibly, he’ll still believe them, although not as much as he’ll believe his won equally ridiculous professions.

I’m not actually sure whether it’s worse to mistake trying to cling to the past as love, or mistaking desperately safe bid for your mentor’s approval as love.

By the time the door shuts behind Babs’ retreating form, Dick will collapse in the general vicinity of their couch. His form will curl into a ball and his hands will dig into opposing shoulder blades in an effort to suppress the anguish wanting to spill forth.  It’s a pose Roy and I are pretty familiar with.

He’ll remain in that pose, convinced that he’s broken while Barbara makes her way down the sidewalk.  By the time she reaches the mailbox, his breathing will become less ragged.

By the time she reaches the still carseat-less vehicle, Donna will arrive at our door. Lian will run enthusiastically to Donna’s waiting arms and while the child’s head is safely buried in Donna’s neck, Donna will take the opportunity to throw Roy and me a look that will manage to combine sympathy and something akin to irritation.  Lian will remember to kiss her father goodbye by the time Babs’ car pulls out of the driveway.

By the time Roy’s repeated the expected time frame more than twice and Lian’s hugged us both goodbye, Barbara will be turning onto the freeway. She’ll probably be trying to convince herself that she’s done the right thing. She might even be convinced that she really isn’t going to go back this time. Alone in their apartment, Dick will be certain that she won’t.

That makes them both idiots, of course, even if they are just this side of blood.  But their idiocy in this particular matter is hardly new.

By the time the first semi passes Barbara’s car, Dick will pick himself up of the floor and wonder what to do next. His eyes will wander to the phone briefly before he settles on the one exercise that he has come to rely on when everything else has gone badly - patrol. 

By the time Babs changes the car radio to a country station and turns up the volume on some sad song, I’ll send Roy to make the bedroom preparations.  He’ll feign impatience and irritation at being asked to do it, but I’ll know how much he enjoys the set up. I do too, but Roy has a far longer history with Dick than I do. He’s earned the right to put the restraints in place.

By the time Babs’ car pulls into Dinah’s drive, Dick will be pummeling the face of one of New York’s worst.

By the time Dinah pulls Babs into her apartment, Dick will have the sinking realization that patrol isn’t working.  Gee, you think he’d come  that realization a little quicker these days.   

By the time Dinah begins kissing Babs, Roy will have returned to the living room to let me know that the room is ready. He’ll sit down on the couch next to me and we’ll pick through a variety of topics while we wait.  Maybe we’ll discuss the rising number of supervillains or Lian’s grades.  Maybe we’ll make a grocery list.  Maybe we’ll play rock, paper, and scissors to see who will fuck Dick first and who gets sloppy seconds. 

I’ll win, of course.  Roy’s body language is easy to read, and I can always tell which one he’s going to pick a second before he chooses.

By the time Dinah begins removing Babs’ shirt, Dick will be considering coming to see us. 

By the time Babs begins undoing Dinah’s shirt, Dick will be trying to shrug off the urge to visit us.  He’ll be mentally listing the reasons it’s a bad idea, but it won’t do any good.

By the time Dinah straddles Babs, Dick will use that fabulous intellect to come to the realization that there are some plot holes in his “logic.”  They are, after all, legally separated. She did leave him.

And hadn’t we offered our apartment as a place to crash if he ever needed it?

By the time Dinah’s hand has slid up Babs’ leg, Dick will have convinced himself that he needs our friendship.  To be fair, it’s not a completely ignorant thought. On every day of the year that isn’t the week following a Babs and Dick break-up, that’s exactly what we are for him. Friends.

By the time Dinah has pushed Babs naked body down onto her bed, Dicks’ rationalization will have worked, and he will have turned around and be well on his way to our home.

By the time Dinah’s brought Babs to orgasm, Dick will ring our doorbell. I’ll let him in, and I’ll receive a brotherly hug for my efforts.

By the time Dinah and Babs have switched positions, the facade of brotherhood will have been dropped.

By the time Roy’s done snapping both the cock ring and the restraints into place, I’ll have removed my own clothes. Roy will begin removing Dick’s while I sort through the available toys my partner has laid carefully on the night stand.  I’ll probably start with the razors, making tiny slices in those calves of iron as I forcibly push my way into Dick.  The lack of lubricant won’t be comfortable, but it’s what Dick will want. It’s part of the reason he comes to us. We understand something that Babs never can - part of Dick needs this roughness.  Babs is all things good, soft and kind. It’s probably just as well that their relationship is so tempestuous. Otherwise, Dick would never feel this.

By the time I’m finally buried within him, Roy will be pushing the medium sized darts through Dick’s nipples. It’s a messy act that neither of us would perform if Dick didn’t insist on it.

By the time Babs and Dinah have finished their lovemaking and are well on their way to drifting off to sleep, I will begin the biting.  Roy will wait a few minutes, watching Dick pull against the restraints before he begins the beatings.  He’ll pick a weapon, of course. Roy has never used his hands on Dick. I’m not entirely certain that he even can.

By the first time that Dick asks Roy to hit him harder, I’ll be fighting off the comparisons my stubborn brain insists on making between what the three of us do and what Roy and I have.   The roughness of my pushes into Dick have nothing in common with the enthusiastic thrusts I give to Roy. Dick’s grunts borne half out of pain will be nothing like the giddy giggles that I illicit from Roy.  The jerky struggles against Dick’s restraints will bear little resemblance to the joyful tensing that I’ve come to associate with my red-haired lover. 

It won’t at all be what it easily could have been. That will hurt Roy more than it hurts me - Dick was merely my idol; to Roy he was the Holy Grail.

But it will be what Dick wants - what he needs.  That’s what will matter most. It always has. How could we deny him?

By the time the blood streak running from the darts has dried, I will be spent.  Roy and I will switch places, his arrow tips replacing my razors. I’ll watch as Dick withers about, too lost in the ecstasy that pain brings to see the same expression pass across Roy’s face. By the second time I recognize the look on my lover’s face, I’ll once again not know whether to feel hatred or pity towards Dick for never being able to see it.  God knows he never could - not even before that doomed marriage took place. 

No, I don’t suppose I could ever really hate Dick.  But by the time I grow too annoyed with the situation, I’ll take my turn beating the shit out of Dick. Unlike Roy, I won’t mind using my hands.

By the third time I strike Dick, I’ll wonder what Bruce would say if he knew about the way I occasionally misuse Batman’s teachings for Dick’s benefit.

If I make a mistake and hit too hard- there are no safety words, but I can tell by the way Dick will turn his head away from me - I’ll think of Jason.  The thought will turn my stomach and make me want to stop all together.  At the same time, I’ll have the urge to hit him harder.

But I won’t.  I’ll merely continue the same level of hits because it’s what Dick wants.

By the time Roy is spent, I’ll be ready to fuck Dick again. We’ll spend the night taking turns, altering between beating and fucking, always careful never to be tender.

By the time morning comes and Dinah is using her tongue to wake Babs up, the three of us will have collapsed. Roy and I will be folded into each other, Dick will still be bound to the bed. We’ll sleep in til mid-day, when the cycle will begin all over again.

By the middle of the day, Babs will begin to pour her heart out to Dinah, suddenly remembering the good parts of her relationship with Dick. 

By the middle of the week, she will start to have doubts.  Dinah will remind her of the reasons she and Dick aren’t compatible.  Babs will acknowledge Dinah’s points, but will go to bed uncertain.

By the middle of the following day, Babs will answer Dinah’s logic with irrelevant retorts about Oliver Queen. They’ll probably stop making love around then, too. But Roy, Dick and I will still be having sex.

By the time Babs breaks down and makes the call, a full week will have passed. I’ll hold the phone near Dick’s ear, not bothering to untie him.  Our reluctance to do so all week will have been merely a pathetic denial of the inevitable. While Dick takes the call, Roy will cross his arms in annoyance and disgust. 

By the time the call is finished, Dick will give me a look that conveys guilt.  I’ll motion to Roy as I hang up the phone and we’ll walk out of the bedroom together.  We won’t bother to untie him.  He can easily break free from the restraints all by himself.

By the time Roy and I have returned with Lian, Dick will be gone. My lover and I will continue our lives with a clean conscience and we both know Dick can’t say that.

But by the time we tuck Lian into bed, both of us will wish a tiny bit of Dick’s remorse had anything to do with us, even if it never has before.  
\-------------


End file.
